Spring Break
by ashleezak
Summary: Sequel to Four Day Weekend. The continuing adventures of Charlie and Amita as they try to adapt to their new relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Sequel to Four Day Weekend (Spring Break)

There were worse things than trying to negotiate across campus on crutches, but at this moment Charlie couldn't think of anything. If he wasn't being bumped by rushing students, he was trying to keep his balance going up and down stairs that he normally breezed through. It was only after he finally got into his office and settled in his chair that he breathed a sigh of relief.

It was the Friday before spring break, and although he could still technically be on sick leave because of his knee, he couldn't stand the thought of leaving all the paperwork piling up on his desk. Alan had tried to convince him to go in on Monday when no students would be on campus, but Charlie felt like he needed to get out of the house. Alan and Don were still treating him like an invalid, although his knee was recovering from the fall he'd taken last weekend.

A quiet knock on the door got his attention. "Come in."

Larry stuck his head in the door. "Charles, I trust you're feeling better if you're here?"

"Not especially, but there is a finite limit to the fussing that I can tolerate from my father. Apparently, torn knee ligaments are tantamount to being bedridden," Charlie said as he continued sorting through the papers.

The physicist wandered over and sat down. The look on his face immediately made Charlie suspicious. "You know, Charles, I was wondering…"

"Yes?"

"What do you suppose, in the greater scheme of the universe, caused the earthquake?"

Charlie blinked at Larry, trying to follow his line of questioning. "Um, gravity and inertia acting on tectonic plates?"

"No, no. Not the mere physical, but what in the grand cosmic design caused that particular tremor at that particular moment in time?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose you have a theory?"

"Well, I was just wondering what happened with you and Amita out there in the aftermath?"

"We fell, got stuck out there, and came home. Why?" Charlie kept a bland tone of voice for his answer, but the suspicions grew.

"Well, I recall that she had specifically made mention of showing you something interesting, and then with the event and all, I was wondering if you got to, you know, see what she wanted."

A sly smile crossed Charlie's face. "Larry Fleinhardt, are you fishing for gossip?"

"Oh, no, heavens no. I just know that you two worried a lot of people getting stuck out there." Larry tried to carry across a disapproving look, but the guilt and curiosity behind it ruined his effect.

"Listen, we left in plenty of time to meet up with you if it hadn't been for the earthquake. And yes, for your information, she showed me the ridge and cave. That was all she took me out there for."

Disappointment made Larry's face fall, and he sat there looking dejected.

"Besides, Larry, I tore my knee up and tried to split my head open. It was hardly a romantic atmosphere." Charlie dropped his gaze and hoped that he could keep a straight face through this farce as he continued. "And what is the fascination with my love life, or lack thereof? I mean, does it really deprive you of so much to not be able to leave one area of my life alone?"

Risking a glance at Larry, Charlie nearly lost his composure to see the ludicrously apologetic expression that crossed the other man's face. Instead, he tried to gauge whether he should just back down or try to bluff through more. Alan knew about the burgeoning relationship, but all three of them agreed that once Larry knew the whole campus would know. It was fun to try to keep it to themselves, for a while, anyway.

A loud rush of students outside the door answered Charlie's unspoken question, and he quickly grabbed a small stack of papers. Struggling to his feet, he pulled the crutches over and settled himself to leave.

"Charles, class doesn't start for ten minutes," Larry protested at his struggling exit.

"It takes me twice as long to get where I'm going on these," Charlie explained. "Longer if I'm going through crowds."

Larry held the door for him as Charlie carefully navigated his way into the rushing throng.

Friday was his lightest class load, which was fortunate. By noon he was exhausted, but he was desperate to see Amita before he gave up and went home. He limped back to his office and finished what paperwork he could as he waited for her to finish her classes.

The door creaked open about an hour later, drawing his attention. "Hey, Charlie."

"Lock it behind you," he said quietly. "I don't want Larry paying another visit."

"He waylaid you too?" she asked, smiling at him.

Charlie chuckled. "Not very subtle about it, either." He reached for her and pulled her down onto his lap to kiss her. "Whenever you're ready to tell the world, I am."

"Well, at least let us tell my parents. They'll be back in town this weekend."

"Do I have to go, too?"

She laughed at the consternation in his voice. "Probably. I haven't talked to them yet." This time she kissed him. "They're going to love you. It'll be like your dad liking me."

"Dad loves you," he said in a huff. "All right. You know you've got me."

"What has Don said about us?"

"Don doesn't know yet." He laughed. "Dad is respecting our wishes and not telling everyone he sees, but as for Don, he just hasn't noticed."

"Hasn't noticed? How can he not? You're as giddy as anyone's ever seen you."

"To be fair, he's been so busy that he's only been to the house once since he brought me home and that was to drop off his laundry."

Amita ran her hands through his hair. "Have I ever told you that you have really nice hair?" She buried her face in it and sniffed. "And it smells good."

Charlie groaned. "Um, Amita, that's probably not … Can we wait to do this until later? Please?"

"How much later?" she asked, teasing the curls to fall around his face.

"Well, at least until we get to your place," he said, feeling a little short of breath.

She pouted prettily. "I suppose. If I have to."

An evil grin crept across Charlie's face. "I'll resort to tickling, if I have to."

"You wouldn't." She stared at him, testing his resolve. "You would."

"Probably not here," he relented. "That's all we need is for someone to call security because you're screaming in my office."

Charlie's cell phone rang, startling both of them. He dug it out, trying to keep Amita comfortable in his lap. "Hello?"

"Charlie, Dad said you went back to work, but is there any way I can bring you in this afternoon?" Don asked.

Trying to ignore the kisses that Amita was tracing along his neck, Charlie struggled to keep the stress out of his voice. "Yeah, for a little while. What's up?"

"We just caught a break in the case, and we need you to go through some data."

"Yeah, all right."

"I'll send David for you in a few minutes. See you then."

The connection was barely broken before Charlie laughed. "Don't do that! Don might not have noticed yet, but that doesn't mean he's stupid."

She sighed. "You have to leave, don't you?"

"Yeah. Don needs me to go in to his office." He squeezed her tightly. "I'll finish up just as quick as I can, and then I'll meet you at your place."

"All right." She stood. "Just hurry, okay? I'll wait to call the pizza place until you get there."

Charlie helped her gather her things. "I'm sorry, Amita."

"I understand." She kissed him quickly. "See you later."

He watched her leave. Within moments, Larry appeared back in the office. "So, was that Amita leaving?"

As soon as Charlie saw his friend, he began gathering his own things. "I'm sorry, Larry, but Don just called. He needs me to go in and help with another case."

"Oh. Is that why Amita left?"

"No, Amita left because she had gotten the confirmation she needed for a, um, a development that she is dealing with." Charlie was proud of himself for getting the prevarication out without stumbling too much. "David is supposed to pick me up in a few minutes."

Larry nodded slowly. "Did your brother give you any indication of what he has in mind for you today?"

Charlie hid a smile at successfully distracting the physicist. He grabbed his crutches and began navigating toward the door. "Walk me out?" he asked with a charming smile.

"You know, this is the second time today that you've used those crutches to try to escape my presence," Larry observed as he escorted Charlie through the now empty halls.

"Now why would I do that? Just because you've," he paused to negotiate the stairs, "Decided you know what's best for my life. All of it. Why in the world would I possibly want to escape?"

"Now don't get offended, Charles. I merely observed that your mobility is not quite as impaired as you've led me to believe."

"It isn't now… that there's no students…in my way," he panted as he rested at the bottom of the stairs.

"All right, I'll accept that observation, but my point is that neither you nor Amita seem willing to discuss anything about what happened."

"Other than the fact that there really is nothing to discuss? If you want to know what it was like, we slept on a cold stone floor, wondering if another earthquake was going to hit, and sat and discussed projects to keep our minds off the fact that no one knew where we were."

"Dear lord." For the first time, Larry appeared to understand that the situation had not been all fun and games. "I didn't realize what it was truly like out there."

"To be honest, Larry, I can think of a lot of people that it would've been worse to be out there with. Amita kept her head and didn't panic."

As if on cue, a black SUV pulled up in front of the building where Larry and Charlie were talking. David got out and walked over to them.

"Hey, Charlie, Larry. Need any help?" he asked politely.

"No thank you. I'll see you later," Charlie said as he limped toward the vehicle.

"Take care of yourself, Charles."

David held his peace until they were off campus. "You and Larry looked like you were in an…intense conversation," he said cautiously.

"Yeah."

"Anything wrong?"

"Not really. He was just wanting to know about last weekend."

"Oh."

The rest of the trip was silent. David helped Charlie into the elevator and pushed the button for the correct floor.

"Is there something that you want to ask me?" Charlie asked, not looking at David.

"Are you all right? Don said something about you not being yourself when he picked you up at the hospital."

"I've worked it out since then, so yes, I'm all right."

The elevator chimed the correct floor and they walked out. David shot a look at Don as they entered the conference room.

"Hey, Charlie. How you doing?" Don asked quickly. "Sorry to call you in, but we need help with this."

"What have you got?" Charlie got right down to business.

"A terrorist cell has been hitting online bank accounts, and until today we hadn't had any information on their hits other than names of institutions. We finally got some background into the latest hit and a couple of the earlier ones. Can you go through and see what sense you can make of this? You keep talking about patterns of behavior, and these guys have been hitting banks regularly. The only problem is they're hitting accounts and banks at random." Don held up a hand to stop Charlie's comment. "I know how you feel about random. So find something there to prove me wrong."

Don watched as his brother dove into the mound of material that Colby had brought in and went to work. He seemed like he was back to normal, but…

Motioning to the other agents, Don cleared the room and pulled David aside. "So, did you get him talking?"

"It wasn't about math, so not really." David grimaced, knowing that he failed Don.

"Did he say anything about last weekend?"

"I know Larry was grilling him when I picked him up. He did say that he had worked it out, whatever it was."

Don mulled that over. "All right. Thanks, David."

Charlie stared at page after page of numbers. The account numbers of American banks, British banks, German banks, and a few Caribbean institutions fell in neat columns. Random was a concept that stayed foremost in his mind, to his great consternation. There had to be some pattern here.

The numbers swarmed his consciousness until he completely lost his sense of time. It was only when Megan stuck her head in that he realized how late it had gotten.

"What are you in the mood for? We're calling for pizza," she said.

"What time is it?"

Megan raised her eyebrows at the slight sound of panic in his voice. "About six-thirty. Why? Got a date?"

"No. Just let time get away from me," he returned automatically.

The profiler nodded a little uncertainly. "So, any toppings you can't stand?"

"Just anchovies." Charlie dropped his head to the stack of papers.

Something about his behavior alerted Megan. Staring at the mathematician, who was trying his best to give an impression of intense concentration, she wondered how she knew that Charlie was faking. She pulled the door shut behind her, but took a moment to peer carefully through the small window. As soon as he was alone Charlie took out his cell phone and put in a call. It was an intense conversation for all of its brevity. He snapped it shut and went back to work.

Completely bemused by the stranger than normal behavior exhibited by the resident genius, she wandered back to where Don, Colby, and David were arguing over the pizza menu and the case alternately. It was her silence when she sat and joined them that drew Don's attention to her.

"So, what's up? Let me guess. No anchovies."

"Yeah."

Her one word answer drew all eyes to her. "What's wrong?"

"Why would Charlie pretend to work to get rid of me?"

"He what?"

"He pretended to go back to work, and once I left, he called someone on his cell phone." Megan looked at the others apprehensively. "Do you have any idea who he was calling?"

"Dad's not home tonight," Don said quickly. "He's got a dinner date with some of his golf buddies."

"He didn't look real comfortable when Larry was trying to get him to talk earlier," David added.

"Wait a minute. Larry's trying to get information out of him? About what? Charlie doesn't hold anything back from him. The real trick is getting him to shut up."

Megan frowned at Don's cavalier dismissal of his brother. "Listen. Charlie's up to something, and you guys don't think it's weird?"

Don looked at her and everyone saw something click in his face. He burst out laughing, completely confounding his fellow agents.

"Have any intention to clue us in to your brother's suspicious behavior?" Colby asked brusquely.

Trying to contain his hilarity enough to answer his waiting, and impatient, colleagues, he gasped, "It's okay. Just leave Charlie alone. He'll tell us in his own time." Meeting their gazes, he said, "Okay, look. He's got top secret clearance from the NSA. He'll be fine."

Colby and David didn't look any more enlightened, but a very slow smile spread over Megan's face. "They did it, didn't they?"

"That would be my guess," Don said. "I haven't seen him since Monday evening, but I'll bet that's it." He frowned absently. "As a matter of fact, Dad has been rather vague about Charlie all week, like he's wanted to say something but can't."

"You're about to piss us off royally if you don't spill your guts," threatened Colby.

Don leaned forward conspiratorially. "I suspect that Charlie and Amita have finally gotten together."

"But why would he want to keep that secret from Larry? I thought he and Larry were close," David said in confusion.

"Yes, but Larry can't keep such a juicy piece of information quiet. He's got a reputation as being the campus gossip."

Colby shushed everyone as Charlie limped through the office on his crutches distractedly. He got a drink of water from the fountain and headed back to the conference room and his work.

"Did he have a date tonight?" David asked quietly.

"Damn. He might have." Don frowned as he tried to recall the conversation exactly. "He did hint when I called him this afternoon that he only had a while to spare today."

Megan stifled a laugh. "I swear, you and Charlie are more alike than either of you will admit."

"Huh?" asked Don, confused.

"You're just as focused and absentminded when you're on a case as your brother is when he's in the middle of one of his math things."

The agent looked a little nonplussed at the comparison. "I'd never thought about it."

"Yeah, I can see that. No offense, man, but you're obsessive when we get a tough case. Not that it's a bad thing, but there are times…" Colby grinned as he dodged the half-hearted punch that Don aimed his way.

Charlie hung up his phone with regret. Amita was being very understanding about him missing dinner with her, but he felt like a complete loser. The feeling was enough to keep him from focusing on the numbers before him. He was tempted to call her to come in and help him, but really thought she might be more of a distraction than she was already.

An account number caught his eye. He'd seen that one before. Charlie looked at it closer, then paged through other papers until he found a corresponding bank. For several minutes he continued putting together data.

"Don! Don, I've got something!"

Within ten minutes, the others had gathered in front of him. Charlie immediately went into teaching mode.

"Okay, I apologize for not putting the data up on the board for you, but it's easier to do it this way. All right. Don, you're right that the numbers looked random. I had to look hard to find the pattern. The problem was the accounts were not what one would assume." He shuffled through to present his brother with a particular page. "This is the second company hit. The list of account numbers under it is listed in order of usage, with the most used first. Now look at the highlighted selections. Those are the only ones hit. And here," he passed more pages down the table, "The same situation exists here. In fact, with the data you've given me, this shows that every company hit has been hit in only these accounts."

"Wait. Why did they only hit these accounts?" Don demanded. "You said these are arranged in order of usage. So why hit the least used?"

"I don't know. I just know that they did," Charlie said.

"Wait a minute. I've seen some of these names before," Colby said as he stared at the papers. "Year and a half ago, before I got transferred here. I was working on a case, investigating companies that were giving money to al Qaeda cells. This one was involved. So was this one," and he stabbed two of the names in the list.

"So these companies got caught giving money to terrorists, then suddenly they've been robbed by them?" David frowned as he talked it out. "That doesn't follow."

"It does if you're a CEO who doesn't like being told what you can and can't do," Megan inserted. "If you're told you can't give something away, then have your buddies steal it. And even better, you're insured for the loss and don't really even lose the money anyway."

"Damn that's slick," Don said, summing it up. "Guys, get on this and see if we can get some evidence to back up all this. I'm going to run Charlie home real quick and I'll join you back here. Do you need me help you get your stuff together?"

"No, it shouldn't take me long," Charlie said, surprised at his brother's sudden vehemence at getting him home. He didn't notice the odd looks he got from the others as Don escorted him out to the SUV.

"Now, where am I taking you?" asked Don quickly.

Charlie snapped his head around to stare at the agent. "Um, did you forget the way home?"

"Listen. I'll save you the trouble of actually saying something, but if you need me to drop you off at some other address, I'll keep it to myself."

"When did you notice?" Charlie asked softly.

"I'll admit, you did a pretty good job of hiding, but adding up all the little things that me, Megan, and David noticed, it made sense. So why aren't you telling?"

"She wants to tell her parents before we let Larry know, and thus the whole campus." He dropped his voice and quietly gave Amita's home address. "By the way, we weren't hiding it from you, but we also hadn't seen you all week. And yes, Dad already knows."

"Hey, no problem. I know I've been busy. I'm really happy for you two." Don let the sincerity ring through his words. "And one of these days you're going to have to tell me the whole back story."

Charlie filled him in as much as possible before they pulled up in front of Amita's place. Don reached over and rested his hand on his little brother's shoulder. "Thanks for the help tonight. I mean that." He watched Charlie get out of the vehicle and fumble with the crutches. "Hey, when can you ditch those?"

"I go back to the doctor on Monday and hopefully I'll be able to get rid of them then."

"Good luck tonight."

Amita jumped when the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock, she wondered who would be visiting at eight-thirty, especially since most of her friends had already departed for spring break.

"Charlie! What are you doing here?" she asked as she pulled the door open for him.

He frowned uncertainly. "I thought we'd made plans this evening. Sorry if I didn't call before I came over, but I got done a lot earlier than I thought I would."

She grinned. "I didn't mean to sound like you're not welcome. I just assumed that you would be helping Don all night."

Charlie collapsed on her sofa, and she helped him pull his shoes off and prop his knee up. With him settled, she grabbed the phone and the remotes and snuggled in beside him.

"Now, what do you want on your pizza?"

Charlie chuckled. "That's the second time this evening that a beautiful woman has asked me that. And I'll give you the same answer I gave Megan. Anything but anchovies."

The movie was a nice distraction until the delivery person dropped off the box. After the edge was taken off their hunger, they started touching and kissing more. The kisses started innocently enough, but as the passions progressed, the sofa's inherent difficulties kept things from going too far.

Amita pulled back to stare at Charlie, neither of them wanting to stop. Shyly she whispered, "The bed is a lot softer."

He nodded and began struggling to sit up. She helped him upright before delaying the trip in with a few more kisses. He followed her slowly as she led him into her bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday

Don sat in his SUV after an all-nighter, deciding where to go whether to go crash at his apartment or Charlie's house. Racking his brain to remember what was in his refrigerator, he pulled to mind leftover Chinese cartons, two or three eggs, some wilted vegetables, and a carton with a little bit of orange juice. Thinking about his father who was undoubtedly fixing breakfast, he made the easy choice.

Tired, he quietly walked into the house, where he smelled something that made his stomach rumble. Smiling at having made the right decision, he walked in and leaned against the counter.

"Good morning, Donnie," Alan said, giving his older son a long look. "Or is it good night?"

"I'm on my way to bed, Dad. Don't worry."

Alan gifted Don with a cool stare.

"Right. You're going to worry no matter what I do," Don said with a rueful grin. "Well, are you at least going to feed me?"

"Grab a plate."

Don obediently got a place setting and helped himself to the scrambled eggs and waffles.

"Before you eat your brother's share, would you go upstairs and wake him up? He still wasn't home when I got home, and that was pretty late."

Knowing where he dropped his brother off, the agent wondered if Charlie had made it home at all. He stuck his head cautiously to see that the bed was rumpled, but obviously unused that night. Sighing, he tried to figure out what story he would tell his father.

"Is he still sleeping?" Alan asked as Don took his seat and began eating.

"He's not up there."

A long silence preceded, "What do you mean, he's not up there?"

"Evidently he didn't come home last night."

"I thought he was with you."

Don looked up at the accusation in Alan's voice. "Dad, Charlie finished helping me yesterday evening. I dropped him off at Amita's last night."

"Oh." After another pause, "When did he tell you?"

"I am an FBI agent. Putting together clues and coming to the correct conclusion is my job." He took another few bites. "And how did you find out?"

Alan looked uncomfortable. "I came in on them asleep on the couch after Charlie came home from the hospital."

"I thought you were hiding something," Don deadpanned, trying to tease his father.

"They want to tell her parents before…"

"I know," interrupted Don. "Charlie told me last night. I was teasing you."

"Oh."

They finished the meal in silence. Don leaned back and sighed. "That was great, Dad. Thanks." Pushing himself upright, he said, "I better be heading back to my place."

"Don't be silly. There's a perfectly good bed upstairs." Alan began gathering the dishes and clearing the table.

"Thanks. Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Donnie."

Charlie came awake slowly. He felt something tangled in his hair, and began trying to pry his eyes open to see what was. It was the feminine sigh beside him that woke him completely.

Rolling over, he stared into Amita's wide open brown eyes.

"Good morning," purred her husky voice.

"Good morning."

Tentative smiles gave way to blushes. Amita withdrew her hand from his hair and let it trail down his chest. Charlie realized with a start that at some point during the night that his shirt had vanished.

"Hungry?" she asked as she rolled over and crawled out from under the twisted blankets. Charlie groaned as he saw her stand up and stretch, letting the tee shirt she was wearing sneak its way up past the boxer shorts and baring a little stomach.

"Is that my shirt?" he asked hoarsely, trying to distract himself from her teasing display.

"Yeah, but they're my boxers," she flirted on her way out of the room.

Charlie closed his eyes and tried to focus on a safer subject. He tried recalling the data he'd worked on for Don the night before, but his attention kept straying to the events after work. He knew that he and Amita had come in and continued what they'd started in the living room, but he didn't really remember falling asleep. Or losing his shirt, for that matter.

"I know this isn't particularly fancy, but I hope it works. We haven't really gone grocery shopping for a few days," Amita explained as she carried a tray into the room. "I hope you like Cap'n Crunch."

He scooted back in her bed until he was sitting against the headboard. "That's fine," he said as he picked up a bowl.

They had just finished eating when Charlie's cell phone rang. There was a bit of a scramble as they tried to find it among the pile of his things beside the bed.

"Yeah?" he answered breathlessly.

"Did I interrupt something?" Don drawled teasingly.

Charlie laughed. "Not unless you count breakfast as something."

"Well, just to give you a head's up, Dad knows that you didn't come home last night."

"Well, he's not stupid. He would've known when he went to go get me up."

"Yeah, well anyway. Have fun, buddy. If you need a ride home, give me a call."

"Thanks. Bye."

"Bye, Charlie."

He snapped the phone closed and looked at Amita's questioning look. "Don just warned me that Dad knows I didn't come home."

"Well, that's pretty evident. You're still here," she observed mischievously. Leaning back on her heels, she said, "I'm going to go jump in the shower. Do you need something before I go?"

"I'm fine," he insisted.

She stood up, pulled a dark blue robe from the back of her door, and left Charlie to his own devices as she left the room. He took advantage of her absence to sort through and find his clothes. Remembering that she still wearing his shirt, he pulled his jeans on. Sitting on the bed he could see his reflection in her mirror. Grabbing her hairbrush, he tamed the mess down to a reasonable facsimile of his normal look.

He had lain back down and had nearly drifted off when Amita came back in from her shower. Stifling a moan, he stared at her. Her wet hair hung around her face, which was still rosy from the shower. Bare legs glistened, and Charlie was amazed that she seemed completely unaware of the effect she was having on him.

"What?" she asked as she turned and saw him staring at her.

"You're…" he inhaled as he searched for an appropriate word. "Beautiful."

"Charlie, I'm soaking wet from the shower. I have no makeup on, my hair is…"

"It doesn't matter." His calm words stopped her defensive rant. "You're - you're beautiful."

Smiling, she joined him on the bed.

Alan puttered around the kitchen. The house was silent, but he was used to it being quiet. Don was usually only present for meals and evening ball games, and Charlie often spent long hours at the college, but today the silence had a different tone. He knew his youngest was a man, but Charlie's habits were those of a teenager.

The possibility that he was making up for lost youth had occurred to Alan before. Charlie had gone to college at the point where he should've been harboring his first middle school crush. He'd been studying for his doctorate when he should've had his first high school romance. He'd begun teaching his peers, leaving precious few options for a normal romance. Despite Alan's happiness at him finally finding an intellectual equal, he hoped that his son was handling the situation wisely.

Finally he decided that there was no point in worrying his way around the house. He stuck his head into Don's old room to see that the agent was sprawled out across the bed, snoring softly. Satisfied that he would be asleep for a while, he got his keys and headed out to the store.

As he pulled out of the driveway, he never noticed the dark car down the street watching the house intently.

Don got several hours of sound sleep before his cell phone went off, waking him. He rolled over and answered it. "Eppes."

"Don? When can you get back here?"

Don heard the tension in David's voice. "What's up?"

"We've got another robbery."

"What?" Don was wide awake.

"The terrorists hit several more accounts, not just one this time."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He stopped in the kitchen long enough to make a quick sandwich. Dashing out of the house, he took off for his office. Once there, he greeted the other agents, who looked like they had gotten some sleep as well.

"All right. Where are we?" he said as he sat down at his desk.

"Twelve different accounts were hit. Here are the names and account numbers."

Don stared at the mess of numbers. "What did our accountants make of it?"

"Only one could be reached, given it's the weekend, and Carl's been working on it since he got in. He hasn't made any kind of correlation yet."

Frowning, he looked up at his team. "All right. We'll get Charlie back in to see what he can make of it." He looked around. "I'll call him. Thanks, guys."

He sighed as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. This time it was answered after the first ring. "Yeah, Don, what do you need?"

Taken aback at the unexpected response, he stammered, "Um, we've had a new development and I was wondering…"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," his brother assured him quickly.

"Are you still at Amita's?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yeah."

"All right. I'll see you when you get here."

The connection was lost, but Don sat there staring at the phone. There was something weird going on there. The call earlier that morning had definitely sounded like he'd interrupted something between them, but that had sounded like Charlie was desperate for a reason to leave.

He concentrated on the new information. This time each of the banks listed were in the L.A. area, or at least had major branches there. The companies hit were another mélange of strange mixes, including four that he'd never even heard of. Sighing, he propped his head in his hand. It was like the terrorists had listened to what they'd discovered the night before and changed their MO.

He'd had a chance to go through the information twice before the elevator chimed. The sound carried through the semi-deserted office, and Don was relieved to see Charlie limping in with Amita. Remembering her aptitude with computers, he rose and met them gratefully, presenting her with a guest pass.

"Thanks for rescuing me," Charlie whispered as he leaned close to his brother.

"From what?"

"Her parents showed up."

No more words were necessary as Don grinned at his little brother. "You're welcome."

Charlie settled into the same room he'd worked in last night. "All right. What's changed?"

Don quickly gave him the updated information and got him started. Amita began helping sort the data. The agent left the two geniuses alone.

He was sitting at his desk when a shadow fell across his desk. Looking up, he saw the excited face of Carl Olson, the accountant.

"Do you have something?" Don asked.

"I think I've figured out where the money is going," the man said.

"Great. Tell me what you know."

Within a half an hour, Don had his team assembled for another briefing. Charlie and Amita sat at the back of the room this time, their own figures only half-done. Don shared Carl's findings with the group, and with them, Megan adjusted her profile. The suspect pool had been narrowed drastically and Colby and David took off to run checks on the list. Don thanked Carl forcefully and walked around the table to face Charlie and Amita.

"I'm sorry I had to drag you in. I didn't realize that he was going to break the case so quickly," Don apologized.

"No problem. I'm glad you've got the information you need," Charlie assured him as he began clear off the space they'd been occupying.

"Are you sure? I mean…"

"Go get the bad guys," his brother insisted. "It's not important where the information came from as long as the correct conclusion has been reached."

"All right, then. Do you need a ride home?" Don asked solicitously.

"No. We'll get a cab. You go catch bad guys."

Don nodded and left, feeling that something was up with Charlie.

As soon as he left, Amita turned to Charlie. "Why didn't you tell him about those account numbers?"

"It doesn't pertain to this case. Anyway, the information that Agent Olson supplied points to the logical culprits," he explained tersely. "I wasn't kidding when I said that it didn't matter as long as the terrorists are caught."

"Really? Was that your opinion when that psychic was supplying information?" she said.

Charlie flushed angrily. "That's different. Agent Olson used good old-fashioned deductive reasoning and math to come to a logical conclusion. He wasn't wandering around handing out oblique references to things that might have happened."

"Charlie, I didn't mean to make you mad. I was just pointing out the information Agent Olson passed on could be just as flawed. You didn't tell Don that the account numbers didn't line up to the companies named." She stared at him for a minute. "Wait a minute. You'd never seen those numbers before today. How did you know that the companies were dummy corporations?"

"Because I know that some of the account numbers used belong to the L.A. branch of the FBI," he said simply.

Amita blanched. "That means that this could be an inside job."

Charlie nodded soberly. "That's why I couldn't just start tossing out accusations. Let them catch the criminals out there before we focus on the one inside." He slung his bag across his back and stood up, adjusting his crutches. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." She shuddered slightly. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I."

A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews. This was to be a short companion piece to Four Day Weekend, but I decided I wanted to see what I could do with Charlie and Amita's relationship once the real world started intruding. I hope you like this.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunday

Charlie woke in his own bed the next morning, regretting the lack of warmth next to him. He and Amita had shared a quiet dinner before she headed home to try to repair the damage caused by her very traditional parents finding them in her apartment together.

It was amazing how fast things could change. Two weeks ago, he couldn't have imagined how life could be so great. Then that earthquake last weekend threw him and Amita together. Even his sore knee was healing. Life was definitely interesting.

Taking the opportunity to lay in bed and just relax on this lazy Sunday morning, he tucked his hands behind his head and just considered recent events. It was weird to be this happy.

Since her parents knew of their relationship, there really was no reason not to tell Larry. He grinned. He had to admit, though, it really was rather fun to keep the physicist in the dark. Larry had the annoying habit of being right, especially when it came to subjects that he had no reason to be right in, and having such a juicy secret was satisfying in a petty way that Charlie couldn't fathom.

He heard steps pass by his room, and heard his father go downstairs. Listening intently, he heard the pots begin clanging as Alan began breakfast. Deciding that he'd lain in his bed long enough, he got up and pulled on clean clothes. He made his way downstairs.

"So, you made it home last night," Alan said slowly.

"You know darn well that I was home all night," Charlie teased. "And besides, who was it that was pushing me to make a move on her?"

"Make a move, not spend the night. There's a difference."

"Come on, Dad. We haven't done anything like that yet." A slight blush crossed his features as he recalled how close they came.

"Yeah, but you spend too many more nights at her place and, well." He looked at his younger son with apprehension and affection.

"Fine. She can stay over here from now on."

Charlie ignored the pointed stare emanating from his father and limped over to set the table.

"Charlie, where are your crutches?"

"Upstairs."

Alan sighed. "And why aren't you using them?"

"Because my knee feels better. Besides, I'll probably be rid of them tomorrow anyway."

"Fine. You fall in the middle of the street and I'm not doing a thing for you this time," his father grouched.

"I didn't say I would go out without them. I'm not stupid. I'm just trying to wean myself off them so I'll be ready to go back to work next week. Trying to get around on campus with those things is insane." Charlie filled his plate and limped back over to the table.

After breakfast, Charlie swept through the living room, gathering his belongings that had been stacked while his father had restricted him to the downstairs while he was recuperating. He paused by the window, taking in the beautiful spring weather. It was really a gorgeous day. Grinning, he wondered if Amita would be interested in a picnic lunch.

His smile faded as he noticed the dark car down the street. There was an unmoving dark figure inside, and Charlie tried to figure out what he was doing there.

"Hey, Dad. Did the Rosettis get a new car?" he called back through the house.

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"There's a strange car sitting down the street, and I was just wondering why it was there."

Alan walked in to stare at the vehicle. As he peered over Charlie's shoulder, the car started and took off. "Huh. Maybe he was waiting for someone and got tired."

"Yeah, maybe," Charlie said distractedly.

"If you want, I can call Rob and see if they know who that was," Alan offered.

"No. Forget it." He looked at his father. "I'm going to call Amita and see if she wants to go out this afternoon."

"It's a great day. I'm going to go over and make sure that your Aunt Irene's yard work is taken care of."

"I thought she hated you," grinned the younger man.

"Well, she still thinks that your mother married beneath her, but since no one else on that side of the family will make the effort, she tolerates me." Alan laughed softly. "Besides, your mother would haunt me if I didn't at least make the effort."

"I think you're right."

The quad across from the science was extremely quiet, given it was the first Sunday of spring break. Occasionally a face would appear at one of the dorm windows, showing that not everyone had the option of going home for the vacation. Once in a great while someone would wander across the grass, but no one bothered the picnickers tucked away behind a large tree.

Charlie and Amita enjoyed their time in the shade. The sandwiches and salad that he had picked up from the deli were gone, leaving the two of them to sprawl on the blanket. The sun dappled down through the leaves, warming them without overheating them. Lying on their backs, hands entwined, they relaxed, saying nothing. No words were needed.

"Charles! This is where you've gotten to," a voice called from across the quad.

Both of them sat bolt upright as Larry walked toward them. Amita cast a quick look at Charlie, who shrugged. She mouthed the word _Now?_ to him and he sighed and nodded.

"Oh, Amita. I didn't see you there behind Charles. Now what are the two of you doing out here?"

"Having a picnic, Larry," Charlie said in the most rational voice he could muster. "Would you like to join us?"

Larry sank down cross-legged and regarded them curiously. "I called your house looking for you and your father said you were here. I checked your office first, but it was all locked up."

The couple tried to contain their amusement. The physicist was bursting to come out and ask why they were there together and was failing to conceal his interest. Charlie seriously considered dragging the situation out more, but took pity on his mentor.

"Listen, Larry, there's something we need to tell you." Charlie reached over and grabbed Amita's hand, squeezing it and hoping that she would play along with him. "Now that Amita's parents know, we can tell the world now."

"You've finally gotten together! I knew it!" Larry exclaimed. "Oh, I knew that something had happened while you guys were out there."

"No, no, Larry. You don't understand. We're not dating." He nervously squeezed her hand again as he heard her inhale to speak. "You see, we're going to have a baby. That's why we eloped this past week."

Amita choked quietly beside him, nearly making him lose his composure. Larry, on the other hand, had turned an odd shade of pink. His jaw hung slack as he tried to put together a coherent sentence.

"You … What?" Larry squeaked out. "How did…when did this…what?"

Amita stamped down her own amusement to add fuel to the fire. "We wanted to tell you, but we were so worried about my parents. You see, Dad actually arranged a husband for me. They're so conventional, and, well, Charlie isn't exactly a traditional Hindu."

Larry's coloring had not improved during her little speech. He finally stammered out, "Charles? How - how could you? Don't you know better?"

The question broke the couple's control. Both Charlie and Amita burst out laughing, much to Larry's confusion and consternation.

"I fail to see where this is a laughing matter," he chided.

"We made it up," Amita gasped. "I'm not pregnant."

"And we didn't elope," Charlie added. "You've been hounding us all week, so I'm sorry, but I got a little revenge." He patted Larry on the arm. "Come on. We weren't ready for the world to know that we've finally gotten together. Now that her parents know that, yes, we're dating, we can let more people know."

"Does your father know?"

"Yeah. He was the first to know, although we didn't exactly tell him. And Don knows, too. He figured it out on his own, though. We were planning to tell you; we just didn't know when."

"So when you kept telling me that nothing happened last weekend, you were, in effect, lying to me?" Larry asked petulantly.

"We never lied," Amita said. "We may have avoided the entire truth, but we didn't lie." She frowned suddenly at Charlie. "At least, I didn't."

"I was careful to phrase things delicately so as not to lie to you," Charlie assured him.

"Yes, but in doing so, you perpetrated a misconception, which is just as damaging as the lie itself," Larry lectured. "And as to why you felt you had to hide the information from me when you know that I'm nothing but supportive…"

"Exhibits A, B, and C," Charlie began. "Remember when you found out that Dr. Phelps in biology began dating the dean of admissions? You spread that tidbit around nearly at the speed of light."

"Now, Charles, that's hardly appropriate…"

"Fine. Exaggeration withdrawn. However, Exhibit B. Remember the couple that got caught _inflagrante delecto_ in the chemistry lab? You had that story spread across campus within a few hours. And that's not an exaggeration.

"Any other examples of my indiscretion?" Larry sniped sarcastically.

"What about the department chair getting a little drunk at last year's Christmas party and getting locked in the broom closet with that grad student? You took great joy in telling as many people as possible."

Amita nodded knowingly. "Even I heard it from two different sources that claimed to come right from you, and given that it was Dr. Rabin and Mrs. Fanning who I heard it from, I tend to believe them." She took in Larry's crestfallen face and tried to repair the damage. "Listen, Larry, you know we love you, but there are some things that we need to keep from spreading to every single person on campus."

"I still can't see why you feel the need to hide this relationship. You're two well-matched, consenting adults."

"Well, to start with, Amita is not far removed from being my student, which is still probably enough to raise eyebrows in the administration. I still consult about some of her projects, so technically, we fall in the gray area. So until she graduates, and therefore is not a student anymore, it would probably be best for everyone involved to simply keep it all low key."

Comprehension finally dawned on Larry's face. "I think I understand," he said slowly.

"Thanks," Amita said softly. "And besides, Charlie and I would like to try this without having the world watch us."

"Well, then I guess I should apologize to the both of you," Larry began. "In pushing to two of you together I didn't take into account your situations. I do ask for forgiveness for my insensitivity."

"Larry, we weren't trying to hurt your feelings, but in this case, this is our life and our business." Charlie grinned as he continued, "And besides, with us dating, the math department is no longer the least libidinous place on campus."

Larry broke out in genuine laughter, letting Charlie and Amita know that the situation had been settled. "I can't believe that you still remember that particular incident."

"How could I forget? You were deliberately taunting us!" The couple joined in with his laughter, at least until Charlie's cell phone rang. Automatically, he checked the incoming number before he answered. "Hey, Don. What's up?"

"Listen, have you seen Dad this afternoon?"

"Yeah. Well, I saw him before I left. He said he was going over to Aunt Irene's to do some yard work or something. Why?"

Don sighed. "Probably no reason."

"Do you want me to try to call him there?" Charlie asked.

"No. I'll just wait." He paused briefly. "You didn't happen to notice anything weird at the house this morning?"

"There was a strange car down the street this morning, but I haven't seen it since."

"A strange car? Did you see the plate?"

"No. It was too far away. Whoever it was parked all the way down by the Rosettis house."

"Really? I'll check it out. Talk to you later."

Catching Amita's eye, Charlie spoke up. "Listen, Don, can you do me a favor?"

"What? Make it quick, if you can."

"When you get a break right after this, I need to talk to you. But not now."

"All right. Fine. Bye."

He looked at Amita. "I'll tell him, I promise."

Larry looked curious. "What was that?"

"Charlie noticed some discrepancies when he was helping Don yesterday, so he's going to bring these to Don's attention."

"Oh."

Hours later, an exhausted team slumped in their respective chairs. David sat with his arm in a sling, the result of a grazing shot gotten in the earlier shoot out. Colby had several stitches on his hands from the knife that the suspect he'd been chasing had pulled. Don was nursing the colorful beginnings of a magnificent shiner. Megan bore no visible bruises, but she had the soberest expression. She'd been hit in the vest by a shot, and the close calls they'd all had was depressing the lot of them.

"I swear, it was like they knew we were coming."

"Don, if your gut hadn't been working overtime, we'd be toast," Colby added gratefully.

"Is there any way we missed something?" Don asked. "I mean, could there have been someone else? Someone else who could've been calling the shots?"

"The cell we nabbed fit the profile. We had the leader, Rogers the ex-military demolitions, we had the hacker, Boronie, we had the intelligence pair, Flanders and Wilson, and the financier, Serzi. We got the whole group." Megan looked like she was ready to pull her gun and shoot someone. "All aspects of the crimes are covered. All the ends are tied."

The group sat a little longer, trying to figure out what went wrong. Finally Don got up slowly to get another cup of coffee. Remembering his promise to his brother, he stood by the coffee machine and dialed his cell phone.

"Hello."

"Hey, Charlie, it's me. Listen, what did you want to tell me about earlier?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Can I talk to you, alone?"

"Sure, buddy. Why?"

"Trust me."

After the nearly disastrous bust, the agent felt a flash of frustration shoot through him. "Listen, Charlie, if you're wanting to talk about your love life, I think there are better times than…"

"No, no. It's about your case."

Suddenly Don was all ears. "What about it?"

"Just trust me. Please."

"All right. Where do you want to meet?"

"How about we meet in the park down the street? I can get there without much trouble."

"I've got a better idea. How about we meet in the garage? That way I can get in and out without Dad seeing."

There was an uncertain pause before Charlie agreed. Their plans finalized, they hung up and Don walked back over to his desk.

"All right, people. We're not going to get anything more accomplished tonight. Go home and get some sleep. We'll take a fresh look at this tomorrow, all right?"

Don took in the subtly relieved faces of his crew. None of them put up any real fight as they rose and gathered their things. He gave them all a pat on the shoulder as they made their way out of the office. Pulling Megan aside for a second, he asked, "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she said.

"You sure? I've been hit in the vest, so don't bullshit me, okay?" Don's concern was evident through the use of profanity. "You're going to be sore in the morning."

"I know," she said sharply.

"This is your first hit, right?"

"I've been hit before," Megan protested. "In training."

"It's different when it's a real bullet," Don said. "It's more than just a physical bruise."

"I'll be fine. Trust me."

Don nodded and watched her go. He hoped that Charlie's information could help make this bust feel better.

Charlie stood with one crutch tucked under his arm as he balanced before his chalkboard. His hand scratched symbols across the surface as he tried to get his rushing thoughts consolidated before they disappeared.

He was lost to the world when Don finally knocked at the door. Charlie limped over to open it and let his brother in.

"What happened to you?" Charlie asked, staring at the swollen eye. "Is that why you want to avoid Dad?"

"Yeah. The suspects didn't exactly go down without a fight."

"Is everyone else all right?"

"Little banged up, but no one's hurt bad." Don walked over and pulled up a straight backed chair and sat on it backwards. "So what is so important? What do you have to tell?"

Charlie sat in his desk chair and pulled a folder across the desk. "I didn't have access to the rest of the information that you had me and Amita working on last night, so I recreated as much of it as I could. These, in particular, are the questionable account numbers." He looked at Don expectantly, who stared blankly back.

"What am I supposed to see here, Charlie? I mean, no offense, but I've had a really bad day."

"These," and he pointed to the top three numbers, "Are not connected to the companies indicated. Those companies are most probably dummy corporations, based on the routing numbers. But what got me is that I've seen these numbers before."

"You have? Where?"

"They are accounts within the FBI. Specifically, the L.A. branch office."

"What!" Don shouted, then clamped his mouth closed. "Why didn't you tell me this last night?"

"Well, the information that Agent Olson gave you was logical, especially since it was consistent with the findings we had worked out. Or at least, what we'd gotten through. I thought that it was better to go ahead and let you get the suspects out there and focus on the other person…later." Charlie lost steam as he saw the storm growing on his brother's face.

"_You_ thought it was better? Do you know what happened out there?" Don paced around the garage, throwing his hands around as he sought not to commit violence on his brother. "Charlie, David and Megan got _shot_! If Megan hadn't been wearing her vest, she'd be dead! Colby's got stitches from where he got stabbed! I _never_ would have gone in there if I'd known there was someone else, especially when that person works _inside the FBI_!"

The younger man sank back in his chair, stunned. Once again his failings with human interaction had come to the fore, and this time his friends had been hurt. The blood left his face and he sat silently and let his brother rant at him.

"Don't you have any idea how dangerous that was? Someone could've been _killed_!"

"I'm sorry," whispered Charlie. "I didn't know."

"_What_?"

"I'm sorry. I thought that it would be distracting."

"Distracting?" Don was unable to follow his brother's train of thought.

"I thought," and Charlie's voice still didn't rise above a whisper, "That if I told you that there was an insider, you'd arrest the others and work on the insider without letting him know that he was under suspicion."

"You actually put thought into this! I can't believe this!" Charlie cringed as Don's voice raised again. "I know that you're brilliant, but there are things you can't do! You don't know how to run an investigation, and you don't know how to handle people! _You _work with numbers. You're good with numbers, so stick to your _numbers_!" With that, Don stormed out of the garage, leaving Charlie sitting silently.

He had no idea how long he sat there before he finally snapped out of his trance. Reaching for his cell phone, he dialed Amita's number. She answered after the third ring.

"Amita?"

"Charlie? What's wrong?"

"You were right."

"I was right? About what? Charlie?"

"I can't…I can't…"

Amita could hear the distress in his voice. "Listen. Take a cab and come over to my place. I know my parents aren't going be dropping in unexpectedly, so come on over." She listened for a minute. "Charlie? Did you hear me?"

"I'll, um, I'll be there."

Amita hung up the phone and stared out the dark window. She wondered what Charlie had meant by saying that she was right. Right about what? All she could hear was the strain in his voice, and she knew that was never good.

It seemed like an eternity before the doorbell rang. Rushing to the door, she peeked out to see him standing at the door. She pulled the door open and looked at him. He was pale, and his eyes were dark with pain.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to get the shell-shocked look off of his face.

"I, um, I screwed up."

"What? What happened?" She led him over to the sofa and sat him down. "Charlie, tell me."

"I screwed up."

"How? What did you do?" Amita was starting to get exasperated with him.

"You were right." Charlie leaned forward, avoiding her gaze as he stared out the window. "I should have told Don last night. I thought I was right, that-that I was helping him. Instead, I got two people shot."

"_Shot_?" she gasped. "What happened?"

"Evidently the fact that there was an insider was a factor in planning his bust. I-I-I, um, I didn't know that there would be a difference and David and Megan got shot. It's my fault. I thought I knew best. I thought I knew…"

Amita hugged him to her, trying to break through the shock that had completely taken over Charlie. He still stared forward, not giving in to her comfort.

"I could have prevented this! It's my fault!"

She forced his head around, catching his tortured stare. "Charlie! Are they okay?"

"What?"

"Are Megan and David okay?"

"Yeah. I guess. Don didn't say other than I got them shot."

"Charlie, you didn't know. It's not your fault!" Amita chanted to him. "You're a consultant! He didn't give you a chance to finish your work. For all you know, that accountant is the one at fault. His timing was interesting, to say the least."

"No, it's my fault. I should have listened to you. You were absolutely right."

"Charlie! Please, listen to me. It's not your fault." She could see that her arguments weren't breaking through his distress, so she grabbed his face and kissed him. She kissed him as passionately as she could, and didn't let go until she felt him start to react.

"Why did you do that?" he whispered against her face, eyes closed and face still too pale.

"Because I love you and I can't stand to see you hurting like this." She began pressing small kisses all over his face, trying to keep him distracted. "Will you believe me that it's not your fault?"

Holding still, as if movement on his part would drive her away, he exhaled very slowly. "Logically, you present a good argument, but I can't…I can't believe it."

"Charlie? We'll work it out." She pulled back so she could meet his gaze. There was still a tremendous amount of pain in his eyes, but the shadow was gone. "We will work it out. Tomorrow, we'll talk to Don."

Panic crossed his face as he shook his head. "I can't talk to Don."

"We'll talk to him tomorrow. For now," and she pulled him to his feet and led him back to her room, "For tonight at least, you're staying with me."


	4. Chapter 4

Monday

Megan Reeves considered herself a strong, capable woman. Therefore, the insomnia that insinuated itself that night was frustrating. She tossed and turned, trying to sleep despite the images of that bullet hitting her over and over again. She tried rolling onto her stomach and burying her face in the pillow, but that put too much pressure on her sore ribs. The alarm clock read 3:45 when she finally gave up and got up. Dressing quickly, she headed back to the office.

The floor was almost completely deserted when she got there. A few janitors, identification cards hanging around their necks, worked in the halls and around the office, drawing little attention to themselves. Megan glanced at each of them in greeting briefly before she sat at her desk. Starting her computer up, she stared blankly at the screen.

She was a professional profiler. Her job was to get inside criminals' minds and figure them out, but she couldn't understand why getting in her own mind was so difficult.

Her attention finally shifted to the screen when an email popped up in the corner. Curious, she brought it up. The return address was from Agent Shaw, one of the other accountants in the department.

_Agent Reeves,_

_After double-checking the data that Agent Olson gave you Saturday night, we've discovered a link buried in the information. There is at least one of the robberies that, after sifting through the different servers, leads back to the CalSci campus. We haven't been able to pinpoint which computer was used, but we'll keep working on it._

_We'll keep you posted._

_Arlie Shaw_

She sat and thought that over. That would explain the forewarning the cell demonstrated in the bust. The only problem, though, was that the profile didn't fit. The mastermind was the demolitions guy. He had the military know-how, he had the brains, the ambition. Everything fit with him in charge.

Deciding to wait until Don came in to discuss this newest development, she filed it away mentally and began working on the paperwork from the previous day's arrests.

Amita's bedroom grew light very slowly. She laid beside Charlie, watching him sleep. His eyes were closed, but she could see that even his dreams weren't letting him rest. She knew that something more had happened than just Don stopping by and having a nice little chat about something going wrong. Even though she'd only seen mild arguments between the two brothers, she'd heard stories from Larry that described some really nasty, hateful fights.

A muffled sigh drew her eyes back to the sleeping man. He had rolled over on his back, blanket twisted and an arm thrown over his head. She reached up and twisted a rogue curl around her finger.

Amita jerked and realized that she had fallen asleep. Glancing at the alarm clock, she saw that it was still early. Sighing and snuggling up against his side, she allowed herself to fall back to sleep.

There were days when Alan Eppes missed Margaret more than others. Any day that started with the memories of raised voices coming out of the garage was one of the bad ones. He had tried to ignore the sound of what he'd dubbed Don's FBI voice as something had obviously made him angry. The fact that he'd sneaked in and out without even greeting Alan had given him away.

He wondered how long this fight was going to affect family relations. Very few of the recent ones had caused much of a rift, but there were a couple in the past that had affected the family for years.

Come to think of it, he hadn't heard Charlie come upstairs last night. It wouldn't be the first time that an argument with his brother had forced a retreat into one of those unsolvable problems. Alan decided to fix a nice breakfast and take it out to the garage.

He was shocked that the garage was empty. Looking around, he stared at the conspicuous absence of the P vs. NP equations on the boards. The few things that littered the surfaces were still beyond Alan's engineering knowledge, but he took some comfort in the fact that Charlie hadn't retreated.

Taking the food tray back to the kitchen, he wondered where his son was. He called Charlie's cell and his office, getting only voice mail at each number. He got similar results from Don's cell and office.

Frustrated from his lack of communication, Alan considered his options. He knew that Charlie had an appointment at the orthopedist's this afternoon, but until he didn't show for that, he decided to try to let his sons work it out on their own.

Don walked into the FBI building that morning in a foul mood. After he completely went off on Charlie, he went home and tossed and turned as he tried to justify the accusations to himself. He knew that his brother had acted in the best of faith, and that was absolutely no reason to take out his fear and anger out on Charlie, but he'd presented too big a target.

Sitting at his desk, he pounded out paperwork, tracking rounds spent and wounds acquired. Even though he knew that the team was all right, he hated having to actually put it on paper; it made everything permanent.

He felt a presence beside his desk and looked up into Megan's face. He saw the fatigue stains under her eyes, testifying to her sleepless night.

"How are you this morning?" he asked solicitously.

"Fine. Just still a little tired," she passed off. "Anyway, I've got something for you." She handed him a printout of the email she'd received earlier.

Don read over the message quickly, then reread it. "CalSci?"

"I know. I got that early this morning. I've been thinking about it since. Why CalSci?"

"It must be one of the students. I just hope that Charlie," he hesitated a little after the name, "Doesn't take it too hard if we have to arrest one of his students."

The profiler frowned as she caught his pause. "I'm just thinking that this is one, convenient and two, weird."

"How so?"

"The fact that the trace goes back to the campus where Charlie would surely find out about it? How could a student believe that they could get away with it?"

"He's always talking about how he gets these students in that are trying to pull stuff on him. This sounds like a natural prank material."

"This isn't a prank. Even the hacking part of this is a felony. It just doesn't add up."

Don sighed and buried his face in his hands. "I know."

"What?"

"I said, I know."

"You know what?" Megan demanded. When he didn't answer quickly enough, she snapped, "Look! I've had not nearly enough sleep, and right now, you're just pissing me off!"

The agent stared up at her in surprise. "I went over and talked to Charlie last night."

"And you fought."

"Yeah. I guess I overreacted at something he told me. Anyway, I know it doesn't add up." He looked at the office. "Listen, David and Colby are both on medical leave for today, so I'll treat you to a cup of coffee."

She blinked at his sudden change of subject. "All right," she agreed reluctantly.

It was only when the two of them sat around the tiny table nursing their coffees that Don began talking. "Listen. Charlie and Amita found something odd when they were trying to help us Saturday."

"They didn't finish with their work, did they?"

"No, but they didn't need to. Charlie recognized some of the account numbers."

"How? They weren't repeats of previous robberies, were they?"

"No. I don't know when he saw them, but he recognized three of the accounts as FBI internal accounts."

"What?" Megan whispered as she leaned forward. "This means…"

"Yeah. Someone inside our office was participating in those robberies, and very probably tipped them off to the raid." Don sipped his coffee while they both contemplated the ramifications of that.

"Or that Charlie committed the last robbery."

Don glared at her.

"Hey, I had to say it, and yes, it did sound as lame to me as it did you." Megan drained her cup and looked much more awake. "So, someone inside our office is trying to cast doubt on Charlie?"

"So who in our office is in a position to pull this kind of misinformation?" Don asked.

"Well, the computer guys have the know-how, but they also have enough to hide this to the point that we'd never know. And we know that Charlie could hide his tracks so no one would know."

"The accountants could definitely have done it, but why?"

"It all boils down to money, doesn't it?" Megan leaned forward slightly. "Look. The profile on the group is perfect. In fact, it's too perfect. Everything fits too perfectly. Like someone took a blueprint and recruited the perfect crew."

"So someone put together a terrorist cell just to cover him stealing a bunch of money?" Don nodded absently as he considered that. "We go after the cell, he takes off with all the money. Very smart, actually."

"Let's get Charlie and Amita to run the numbers again," she suggested.

Don cleared his throat. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," he said reluctantly.

Megan glared at him. "What exactly did you say to him?"

"Look, I know I wasn't particularly nice, but I was right," Don stated defensively.

"Yeah, that makes all the difference."

He flinched away from her sarcasm. "All right. I'll call him." Hitting his quick dial, he frowned. He left a quick message before dialing again.

"No answer?"

"Not on his cell or office." He dialed one more time.

"Hello."

"Hey, Dad. Is Charlie there?"

There was a pause that made Don feel intensely uncomfortable. "No, he's not. He hasn't been home all night."

"What do you mean, all night? I left him there pretty late."

"I know. His bed wasn't slept in and there wasn't any trace of him working all night, so I would have to guess that he went over to Amita's."

"Thanks."

He hung up. Not really in the mood to discuss the call, he walked over to the counter. "Miss? Do you have a phone number?"

The teen took a few seconds to grab a large book and toss it toward the agent. He picked it up and began paging through. After a moment he slammed it shut and tossed a brusque thanks to the girl.

"Come on. We're going."

Amita woke up to a very gentle hand brushing her shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked up toward Charlie's face.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," she said back. Leaning in toward him, she traced soft kisses on his bare shoulder.

He pulled her in to him, hugging her tightly. She squeezed him back and stared into his eyes. Suddenly Charlie's eyes grew wide and a rush of deep red colored his face. "Um, Amita, where are your clothes?"

"Same place yours are. On the floor." She threw her hair over his chest and dragged it back teasingly. He grabbed her and pushed her over on her back, leaning in over top of her to kiss her. She sighed and writhed up against him.

"Are you sure?" he murmured as he stared down into her large dark eyes.

"Oh, yes," she breathed back.

Don felt like asking Megan to go up and knock on the door, but that would be the coward's way out. He gathered himself and walked into the lobby of Amita's apartment building. Looking back at the SUV, he sighed. He knew she would accompany him if he asked her to, but he needed to face his brother by himself.

He knocked softly, listening intently. There were no noises behind the door. Knocking a little harder, he called out.

"Charlie? Charlie, are you there? Amita, it's Don. Is anybody there?"

Suddenly he heard a loud thump and some scrambling around. A muffled voice called out that they were coming, but it was still a few minutes before a strained Amita answered the door.

"Hi, Don. What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping the door mostly shut.

"I'm looking for Charlie. Is he here?"

Amita stared at the agent. He looked uncomfortable and not particularly well-rested. Slowly she opened the door fully and invited him in.

He sat tentatively on the sofa as she walked back to the bedroom. A muted discussion took place behind the closed door before Charlie came out. He took a seat across from his brother, but he never met Don's eyes.

"Listen, Charlie. I know you meant well, and you didn't really do anything wrong." Don still looked uncomfortable.

"How are David and Megan?" Charlie asked quietly.

"Megan's bruised. You can ask her yourself. She's waiting downstairs. David's going to be all right. It was just a graze. And Colby's just got stitches.

Charlie stole quick glances at Don's black eye. The bruising had really settled in overnight. It was actually on par with the one he'd gotten in high school when he'd been hit in the face with a line drive.

"How are you?"

"Charlie, I'm fine." He looked at his brother impatiently. "I really hate to ask you this, but is there any way you can come back in and finish looking at that data? Amita's welcome, too," Don added quickly.

"Look, Don. I don't want to step on any toes here. I know that in some ways I'm, I'm a hindrance in your office, so I don't want to cause any more hard feelings."

"Damn it, Charlie, that's not what I meant!" Don snapped.

"Well, then, what did you mean?" There was a little heat in Charlie's voice now. "You tell me that it-it's, it's my fault that people I know got hurt. I know that I'm not an agent. On the other hand I do have experience problem solving." He stood and began limping around the small living room. "Amita told me to tell you, but I went with my own instincts. So for that, I apologize. But don't come to me with something like that as a-a-a…"

"Charlie, it's not what you think." Don bit down on his anger, realizing that his brother had a right to vent some emotion. "Someone has tried to implicate CalSci, or you, in this case."

"What?"

Don hid a smile at how easily he was distracted. "Megan got an email supposedly tracing one of the robberies back to a computer at CalSci. Our thought is that someone is afraid that you're getting too close and is trying to cast doubt on you. So I'd like the two of you to go back through the data."

"All right." Charlie ran a hand through his hair, drawing Don's attention to his brother's appearance for the first time. Glancing at Amita, who looked less than perfect, he realized that he had interrupted something. "Give me a chance to shower."

"I'll wait downstairs with Megan."

"Damn. I can't. I've got a doctor's appointment at one. Can I meet you at the office after that?" Charlie grinned slightly at his brother. "I'm hoping to officially get rid of my crutches today."

"Fine. I'll go ahead and get Megan back to the office. We'll do more background and try to see if we can find any new information."

"No, wait!" Charlie's face went into motion as his brother stood to leave. "Listen. You said that someone is trying to frame either me or someone at the school. Gather up whatever you think we'll need and meet me back in the garage. I know it's safe in there, because if they're smart enough to reroute computer traces, then they're smart enough to trace your network." Glancing at Amita for confirmation, he continued. "I'll call Larry and we'll all bring our laptops and we'll set up our own network at the house."

Don nodded in appreciation. "So we'll meet you there after your appointment. That makes sense. Thanks." Pausing at the door, he turned back and caught Charlie's gaze. "Charlie, I'm sorry. I was right, but I was wrong in how I told you, so I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Charlie said awkwardly.

Late that afternoon, the five of them crowded into the garage. Charlie, newly released from his crutches, limped around between his chalkboards, altering equations as necessary. Larry, Megan, and Amita sat at computers while Don coordinated information.

"All right. We know that someone inside our office is calling the shots. We also know that he knows we're onto him."

Megan added her opinion. "He's not only smart enough to set up this whole elaborate scheme, but he's also smart enough to use the FBI to do it."

Charlie suddenly stopped in front of one of the chalkboards. Whirling to face Don, he asked sharply, "Do you have a suspect list?"

"Yeah," he said as he sorted through a stack of papers.

"Read them."

Don began reading them as Charlie jotted the names down on the chalkboard. "And what department is each in?"

"Arlie Shaw, accountant. Carl Olson, accountant. Robbie Newton, computers. Ashley Tolin, computers. Brad Dobbins, accountant. Charlie Villas, computers. Mark Foster, field agent. Rachel Abrams, field agent."

"You included field agents?"

Don nodded grimly. "They have enough computer and/or accounting background to make the list."

Charlie stared at the names and immediately scratched one off.

"Who got eliminated?"

"Charlie Villas."

"Why him?"

Larry looked up and grinned. "Of course. He would be eliminated."

"Why would you draw attention to someone with the same name as yours if you were guilty? People with the same or similar names tend to get confused, and if you were guilty of something you'd want to cast blame as far from yourself as possible. Therefore, if he were guilty, I'd be the last one implicated," Charlie smiled ruefully.

Megan nodded in agreement. "That's true. He'd want to stay away from Charlie at any costs."

"All right. Seven left."

Scribbling furiously, he worked through another set of equations, and then consulting with a printout, he quickly scratched off two more names. Don immediately looked at the two eliminated.

"Why them?"

"Rachel Abrams and Robbie Newton neither one fit the statistical equation." Charlie walked behind Amita and stared at her screen intently. Only she noticed that his hand slid under her hair and began caressing the back of her neck easily. He leaned closer suddenly. "Are you sure that's right?" he asked, pointing at something.

"Yes. I've run this through three times and gotten that every time," she said, turning to stare up at him. "It's correct."

Charlie limped over and scratched Arlie Shaw from the list.

"Wait, Charlie. She's the one who sent Megan the email pointing the finger at you," Don protested.

"She _didn't_ send the email. Someone hacked into her email and sent it. Amita's been sorting through the interoffice traffic and uncovered that." Charlie didn't notice the strange looks he got from his brother and Megan at the pride in his voice at her accomplishments.

"Charlie, scratch off Mark Foster," the profiler called as she continued typing quickly. "He was undercover during the most of the robberies, and for the last one, he was actually in the hospital after getting shot in the bust. He couldn't have coordinated anything for that last spate of robberies since he was in surgery."

"Ah," he said as he hobbled back to the board and drew a line through another name.

"So, we've got Carl, Ashley, and Brad left," Don observed as he looked over the abbreviated list. "We're in better position than we were when we started. Megan, what do you think?"

"Whoever is doing this is smart. He, and I use the pronoun loosely, has no problem getting others hurt to gain what he wants. According to their files, both Carl Olson and Ashley Tolin served in the military. Olson was a Navy pilot and Tolin served in the infantry. Brad Dobbins worked for the CIA before suddenly requesting a leave of absence and getting a job in the FBI. He worked in DC for a while before getting transferred out here." She shrugged. "Any one of them could have masterminded this."

Alan stuck his head through the door. "Can I get anyone anything?" he offered. A chorus of negative responses gave him his answer. "All right, then. Charlie, I'm meeting Stan and the guys for poker tonight."

"All right, Dad."

Shaking his head at how involved both his sons could be, Alan left the house. He pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street. In his rearview mirror, he noticed that same dark car that he and Charlie had seen the day before. After turning the corner, he parked and dialed Don's number.  
"Eppes."

"Donnie, there's a strange car parked down the street again. Charlie and I noticed it yesterday."

"Charlie said something about it earlier." Don left the garage and walked through the house to take a look out the front window. There was a dark car sitting out front. "Thanks for the heads up, Dad. Go ahead and go on out. I'll take care of it."

"All right, Don." Alan sounded anything but convinced.

"Thanks." Hanging up, Don ducked behind the curtains, having seen a figure slipping around the house. As quickly and quietly as possible, he ran back to the garage and began snapping orders. "Amita, Charlie, Larry! Get back there behind that desk! Megan, with me!" Gun drawn, he stared at the three of them to make sure they did as he said. "Now! Stay down there no matter what you hear! Do you understand?"

Megan had her own weapon out and ready. "What's up?" she asked briskly.

"There is someone going around the back of the house." Switching to hand signals, he directed her to go out the front door while he headed through the kitchen.

Quietly checking to see if the front of the house was clear, Megan made her way around the corner of the house. There was a dark figure pressed up against a tree, watching someone in the backyard. Megan pressed forward as he raised a gun for Don.

"FBI! Freeze!" she barked, running forward with her gun aimed for the suspect. The man jerked and tried to whirl toward Megan when a shot rang out and he dropped the gun and yelled. Don rushed forward to keep him pinned while Megan pulled out cuffs.

"Carl Olson! You're the insider," Don concluded. Olson yelped as Megan brought his injured arm back into the handcuff.

"Megan, call for backup," he snapped suddenly. "Something else is wrong."

"Did you hear something?" she asked, standing and keeping a foot in the small of the rogue agent's back.

"Nope Just my gut."

A blast from the other side of the house shook them both. Don took off running as Megan pulled out her cell phone and began calling for help.

The three scientists crouched behind the desk as the two agents took off. Larry sat with his back against the desk and his knees drawn up. Amita leaned against Charlie.

"Do you think a mere desk will protect us?" Larry whispered nervously.

"This is left over from the fifties nuclear and earthquake scares. Dad rescued this from one of those old buildings downtown that he worked on. This thing will stand up to anything."

Charlie put an arm around Amita, pulling her closer. They all jumped when a gunshot rang out from the back of the house. Breathing in deeply, Charlie stretched. "Well, I hope that Don gets back here soon…"

All three of them were thrown forward as the desk at their back was forced toward them by a deafening blast. Debris from the splintered garage door showered over them, prompting cries as the three of them got bombarded.

"Come on out! I know you're in there, Eppes!"

Charlie coughed as he tried to raise up. He looked over at Larry, who was as covered in dust as he was.

"Eppes! I'm warning you!"

Amita opened tear-filled eyes and stared up at Charlie. He looked down at her, seeing the pain in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he whispered silently.

She shook her head violently.

"I'm gonna start shooting, Eppes! Come out now!"

"Don't do it, Charles. He'll kill you," Larry hissed.

"And if I don't, he'll kill you guys!" Charlie protested. Both the men ducked as a shot hit the desk and ricocheted up over their heads. Amita grabbed his hand and squeezed. Looking down at her, he shook his head. "Look, I have to. He's calling for me."

"Last chance, Eppes!"

"Really?" Don's voice never sounded so good.

Larry and Charlie ducked down as a hail of gunfire broke out. It felt like it an eternity before the cacophony ended. Charlie lay tucked over Amita, protecting her as best he could.

"Hey, Charlie! You guys all right?" Don poked his head over the desk.

"I don't know." He pushed himself up and looked down at Amita. "What's wrong?"

Shaking, she broke down into sobs. Charlie scooped her up to him. Larry's gasp echoed Amita's and let the mathematician know that something was wrong. He carefully helped her turn around.

"Don?"

Charlie stared at the blood soaking the back of her shirt. Pulling the fabric away, he looked through the hole to see a large shard of glass embedded in her shoulder. "Is there an ambulance coming?"

"Already on the way," the agent said. "How bad is it?"

"Can't tell yet," Charlie answered.

He supported Amita, who sagged against his shoulder limply. The sirens became audible, allowing Charlie a little relief.

It was late that evening when Charlie and Amita rode to her place in Don's SUV. He was silent until he pulled into the parking lot. Turning around, he looked at his brother. "So, how is this going down? How long are you staying here?"

"Long enough for us to be back on our feet," Charlie said tiredly. "Longer if you bring me some clothes."

"Hey, don't get me involved in your depravity. Dad'll kill me!" the agent teased.

"Well, we can't exactly stay at my house with Dad just a few feet down the hall."

"Agreed. That's why I got my own apartment," Don said. "I didn't buy the house."

"Granted, this wasn't exactly a problem I foresaw when I bought it," Charlie grinned. He reached over and squeezed Amita's hand. "Seriously, we have no plans for the rest of spring break, so if you could bring me enough clothes to get through, we'll take our time and recover." He opened the door before turning to solicitously help Amita out. She moved much more tentatively.

"I hope you feel better, Amita. Seriously, if I can do anything, let me know," Don offered sincerely.

"Thanks, Don. I may do that," she said softly.

"Sleep well, guys. And I mean sleep!"

Even Amita couldn't suppress a giggle to that warning. She allowed Charlie to lead her up to her apartment. Once safely locked in, he helped her to her bed. Slowly he eased the hospital scrub shirt off of her. The bandage taped to her back was already stained with blood.

"I'm going to have to change this again," he said as he softly touched around the tape.

"All right."

Charlie patiently worked the tape loose, keeping her discomfort to a minimum. Once loose, the bandage went in the garbage can and he got his first good look at it. The slash had been closed with twelve stitches. From what he and Don could figure out, she had gotten hit by some of the glass from the windows in the garage door when Brad Dobbins, Carl's partner in crime,had blown it out.

He cleaned it out and covered it with clean bandages. By this time, Amita was swaying with the effort of trying to sit upright.

"Here, I'll get you something to sleep in," he offered, trying to keep his eyes off the fact that she was completely topless. Following her directions, he found a large, soft sleep shirt and helped her slip it on so she wouldn't have to raise her arm much. He helped her into bed before stripping down to his boxers to sleep in. He turned off the light and snuggled up beside her, holding her as carefully as he could.

"You didn't tell me how many stitches you got," Amita murmured.

"I'm fine. I'm just sorry that you got hurt at all," Charlie returned.

She leaned forward and kissed him. "I'm tougher than you think."

"I know. But it doesn't help that we finally get together and you get hurt." He hugged her as tightly as he could without hurting her. "I never thought about something happening to me. It just wasn't that big a deal." Charlie let a long moment of silence linger. "I can stop my consulting. I mean, I don't want anything else to happen to you."

"No, Charlie. You love the work you do. And think of how many people you help. I can't let you do that for me."

He didn't answer that, letting the silence stretch out again. Her breathing evened out, indicting sleep. Hearing that, he whispered, "I love you, Amita. I don't want anything to happen to you. I don't think I can live without you."

"Me, too."

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I really appreciate them. This will probably be the next to last chapter of this story, which I hope to have posted by the end of the week. Once again, thanks for the wonderful reviews and feel free to refer either of my stories to anyone else looking to read some Charlie and Amita action.


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue

Charlie woke with sunlight streaming onto his face. He groaned as he realized what day it was. This was Sunday, which meant that this was their last day before reality reared its ugly head.

"What's wrong?" Amita mumbled.

"It's Sunday. Your roommate comes back today, remember?"

"Fine. We'll just go to your house," she said, never opening her eyes.

"Amita, you can't stay the night with me there. My dad still lives there with me."

Her eyes finally opened. "Oh. I forgot about him."

Charlie grinned against her hair. "I guess we'll just have to go back to seeing each other just in class," he teased.

Amita sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "We will not! I've come too far for that to happen! And besides, you didn't have to sit through a lecture from your parents!"

"I'm joking," he laughed, throwing his arms over his face as she snatched up her pillow and began beating him with it. "Seriously, though. We're going to have to cool things off for the rest of the semester," Charlie said. "I'm not happy about it, either, but it has to be done. What I said to Larry to keep him quiet was true. I have no idea how the administration would view it, seeing as how you're still technically a student."

"You're right," pouted Amita. "But that doesn't make it fun."

"Listen. We'll still date, and spend the _occasional _night together, but we will have to wait until summer before we get more serious again."

"Wrong choice of words. We'll wait until summer before we _show_ we're serious again." Throwing herself down on the bed, she huffed.

Pulling her up into his arms for a very soft kiss, he silenced her complaints. "Fine. Bad choice of words. Sorry."

"Smart man," she grinned smugly.

Brushing her air back from her face, he sought her gaze. "Are you okay with this? I mean, I know it's not the optimal solution."

"I know." She rolled over and sat up. "I still don't like it, but I know." He tickled her and pulled her back into his arms where she snuggled in and sighed. "I'll take you any way I can."

A/N: This is the last of this storyline for a while. I'm currently working on other stories, but Charlie and Amita will have to wait. Thank you for all the very kind reviews, and I'm very sorry that it took so long to finish this one. Writer's block dictated that I work on other projects for a while. Again, thank you for your patience and kind reviews.


End file.
